


The Accolade

by Lassarina



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-14
Updated: 2009-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassarina/pseuds/Lassarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is his calling, and he has found himself in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Accolade

**Author's Note:**

> Written for fated_children on LJ.

Her eyes fascinated him. He could not look away, held by the endless depths of her gaze. She was power, and magic, and all he had ever dreamed.

He let go of Deling and stumbled toward her as she turned and walked away. He followed her through the gleaming portal to a richly appointed room.

"Poor lost little boy," she said, in the same condescending tone she had used before. "Can't find your way without a guide?"

In his dreams, she had asked him for his service. He saw, now, that he'd been wrong. He had to offer it.

He went to one knee, though he did not bow his head. A sorceress needed her offerings, but she would not want a knight who showed weakness.

"I want to serve you." He cursed himself for not phrasing it better, for not praising her as she deserved. How many times had he rehearsed this scene in his head?

"You wish to be my knight," she said. The words sent a chill down his spine, for she spoke without inflection.

Her eyes met his, and he was frozen, helpless to do anything but stare at her. He could feel her power surging around him like a tidal wave, and in that moment, she was everything: his mother, his worst enemy, his lover, his sister, his daughter. She was no woman and every woman. The slow relentless beat of power scraped his skin raw and sang along his nerves in eerily beautiful harmony. In that power he saw himself laid bare, all his strengths and weaknesses displayed for her inspection, and he could not resist her. She could destroy him with a thought--less than a thought--and he was suddenly, horrifyingly aware of how inadequate he was to serve her.

"I accept," she said, and for long moments the words rang in his ears as he stared at her, uncomprehending. "Rise, Sir Seifer."

Every doubt he had had fell away as he got to his feet, washed away in the torrent of her approval. He was her knight, and nothing, nothing, would be permitted to stand between her and her goals, whatever they might be. He would lay waste to her enemies and be exalted among her subjects, for it was his strength that would serve her.

He was not lost. He was, at last, at long last, _found._


End file.
